


Becoming Human

by Chainna



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: A.I. Freelancers, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical Cursing, F/M, Far Future, Fluff and Angst, Forgive for me these tags, Influence (Almost Human), M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, My First Fanfic, Possible Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Slow Burn, because they're our Bloodgulch boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5939308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chainna/pseuds/Chainna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the year 2448 Synths are an integrated part of society. Mindless human androids created to improve the human condition, or at least that's what most humans belive. Charon Industries, one of the largest technological corporations in the world has secretly created an illegal research division known only as The Project. Two men of brilliance, and debatable ethics were placed at the head of this division, choosing to be known as The Director and The Counselor, respectively. Their purpose was to create a fully aware synthetic .<br/>The difference between a mindless army restricted by code, and a force of perfect inhuman soldiers was, as it would turn out, the very essence of being human. The Director would come to refer to this as a synthetic soul or meta state, after he succeeded in it's creation.</p>
<p>No prior knowledge of the tv series (Almost Human) is necessary to understand this fic. Credit for this fic is given to both Red vs. Blue and Almost Human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blue

In 2448 science and technology evolve at an uncontrollable rate.

Governments like the United Republic of America can now accomplish astounding feats.

With enough money people can even have their infants genetically modified while in utero. These genetically perfect children are known as Chromes.

Synthetics are indistinguishable from humans and have become an integrated part of society.

 

However, these technological and scientific advancements fall prey to violent, lawless, and faceless criminal organizations with unknown intent.

Law enforcement’s reaction to these rising threats: Every police officer is partnered with an advanced synthetic bodyguard.

 

_Grey and silence._

_That was all that existed in Tucker’s world for that moment._

_He felt his body lying against something hard and unforgiving, as he strained to make sense of his surroundings. But there was nothing. Just swirling wisps of grey and suffocating silence._

_Cunningham. The name brought to mind the face of a younger man with auburn hair and serious eyes. Tucker tried to shake his head against the sudden image, but he didn’t know if his body had actually obeyed the command. He couldn’t think. Where was he?_

_Cunningham’s face flashed across his mind again, but this time his green eyes were wide and lifeless, his lips parted and painted with blood. Tucker forced his stinging eyes to blink, but the same grim sight greeted him as his eyelids forced themselves open again._

_Everything snapped back into focus, like a camera adjusting to a new setting._

_He was laying on his side, pressed against rough concrete and dimly aware that something was wrong with his shoulder. Blood pooled around the mass of shredded flesh where his left arm should have been, but the realization was too faraway to dwell on._

_Smoke clouded his vision and burned his throat with each uneven breath. Cunningham lay not a foot away from him, bloody and lifeless on the warehouse floor._

_They’d known, was all Tucker could think. It was impossible, but somehow the terrorist he had been tracking had known about the raid. They’d been prepared for it before his team even arrived. It was a fucking ambush. Three men and one Synth against a small army. They never stood a chance._

_He could remember it now. Breaking through the door with the rookies at his side. It had been quiet, and empty when they split up to cover more ground. He almost thought that his hunch had been wrong. Then bullets started flying, and Rogers was down. Dead by the time he found him._

_Cunningham was hit next, and he had to keep moving. He was farther in and pinned down by enemy fire. Tucker had ordered the Synth to lead him in. It had refused. Logically it wouldn’t risk one life to save another with a statistically lower chance of survival. He even remembered the words he used to explain his opinion on that, before going in alone._

_Against the statistical odds, Tucker got to the younger officer alive. That’s when the grenade went off._

_Staring at the lifeless face of the rookie, the man he had been charged with training, Tucker could almost let his head loll back, let the silence pull him into darkness._

_Almost._

_But he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing another face. His mother’s caramel skin with way too much of that black hair for a five year old, and wide teal eyes, always filled with more wonder than his own could manage._

_Junior._

_A ringing in his ears drowned out the silence, as the blood spattered man strained to push himself up with his good arm. His body every bit as heavy as before, but the numb was giving way to the pain his movements brought. But that was okay. The pain forced him to stay awake, kept his legs steady as he finally forced himself upright._

_His chest was heaving in burning smoke with every breath as his eyes blinked through the clouds of grey, trying to find which direction would lead him out of this place. He took a painful step forward hoping he’d chosen correctly, when a familiar sound broke through the shrill ringing._

_A pin being pulled._

_His body lurched forward with all of the strength he had left. He barely felt his body connect with the concrete before his mind went black with the blast of the grenade._

Tucker’s body jerked violently in his bed, his teal eyes flying open and seeing only grey before the memory cleared, and they focused on the pale blue ceiling above him. He was thankful, as he was every morning, that he had painted over the off-white shade with a comforting blue. He always woke up seeing grey, even after his eyes had opened. The white had done nothing, but this soft blue always seemed to help him to come out of the nightmares.

He didn’t move at first, letting the tension from the dream settle back into his usual weariness, his eyes trained on the color above him.

The caramel skinned man slowly untangled his limbs from the mess of sheets and pillows that he always awoke to, dropping his feet heavily on the plush carpet floor of his bedroom.

A dull beeping sound forced his heavy eyelids to open, as his narrowed gaze fell on his holotech. The green numbers hovering over the rectangle device on his bedside table disappeared, replaced by a call notification.

A small sigh left Tucker’s lips as he reached over to tap ACCEPT on the holoscreen. He knew his boss wouldn’t leave him alone until he answered. The selection confirmed with a louder beep as the screen opened to reveal the familiar face of his best friend

Church’s dark eyebrows were already pulled together in irritation despite it being barely past 7 in the morning. He received the same call so often that his body had gotten used to waking itself up beforehand. Yet, there was something different in his friend's expression that morning.

“Are you coming in today?” The older man asked, blunt as always.

“Good morning to you to, Captain.” Tucker replied back, ignoring the question. His eyes fell forward as a hand lifted to rub the tension from his shoulder.

“Goddamn it Tucker!” Church snapped back immediately. The darker man didn’t need to look back at the holo to know his boss was rubbing frustrated creases from his forehead.

“I know I said I was ready. Just give me one more day.” His voice was heavy, his eyes still downcast.

“No,” Came the immediate response. Tucker’s eyes snapped up to stare defiantly at the other man, a curse on his lips. “I already gave you one more day. Hell, I’ve been giving you one more days for fucking weeks now. Tucker it’s time. You’re coming in. I mean it. I swear to God I will send Caboose over to drag your ass here if I have to.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“I know. Now get dressed. You have an hour before I send Caboose.” The holoscreen clicked as the call was ended, the display shrinking back to the green numbers showing the time and date.

Tucker let out the curse he’d meant for Church before pushing himself to his feet. He stretched his synthetic arm across his chest, and then into the air before letting the limb fall into place at his side.

“Junior! Are you up yet?!” His voice carried through the house, receiving a single shout back in response. “Are you out of bed?!” He called, stopping at the door to his bathroom when silence greeted him from the boy’s bedroom. “Get up! We’re leaving in 30 minutes whether you're dressed or not.” The thuds and slams from the second floor were enough of a confirmation for the man to push his way into the bathroom for his morning shower.

Forty minutes later both father and son were scouring the house for the boy’s shoes.

“Well, where did you put them before bed?” Tucker called as he peered underneath the couch.

“I don’t remember.” His son replied urgently as he hurried back up the wooden stairs, a dark hand gripping the metal pole running along one of its sides.

Tucker sighed under his breath as he pushed himself to his feet. The houses living area was very open with a cozy but clean amount of furniture. Still, his seven year old had somehow managed to lose his only pair of shoes somewhere in the expanse of beige carpets and white tiles.

“Found them!” His son almost cheered as he plopped down on the stairs, quickly pulling on the notorious shoes.

“This is the third time this week Junior”

“It’s Monday.” The seven year old chirped, his face the picture of innocence when his father rounded the stairwell.

“Fine. It’s the third time in seven days.” The man bit back, handing the boy his backpack when he joined him at the bottom of the steps. “From now on you're taking your shoes off beside the door when you get home,” He raised his hand to silence the child’s protests while continuing firmly “and they will stay there until we need to leave again.”

“Fine.” Junior grumbled as he stepped out of the open door.

Tucker swiped his thumb over the digital pad to the side of the door, signaling the house to lock itself. In truth, he hadn’t seen the need for the automated security system when it first hit the market during his younger years, but that was before he’d left open his bedroom window and a bat, of all things, had gotten in while he’d been gone. It had taken him hours to get it out on his own, as his friends were either assholes, lazy, or afraid of bats. Yeah, he wasn’t letting Grif live that one down.

‘Synthetic Fail. Calibration Required. Synthetic Fail. Calibration Required.’ A feminized robotic voice sounded from Tucker’s synthetic arm.

He tensed up, pain immediately shooting through the inorganic nerves. He grimaced quickly. His right hand pressing against the back of his shoulder, his finger digging into the mesh of the synthetic and organic flesh, as he leaned his right side against the house for support.

“Dad?” Junior called from his position by his father’s auto, his tone high with worry.

“It’s fine kiddo.” Tucker did his best to send a smile over his son’s way as he pushed away from the house. “Get in, we’re already going to be late.” He nodded to the car at his son’s back.

The boy hesitated, looking almost afraid but after a moment he turned to the autonomous car, letting the door flip up and taking the passenger seat.

Tucker waited for another moment, letting the pain ease from his false limb before following after his son. He stretched and clenched his right hand several times at his side before slipping into the main passenger seat.

“What is your destination?” An automated voice asked.

“Preset 2.” The dark skinned man instructed. His teal eyes fell on the frowning boy beside him as the auto pulled soundlessly onto the road.

“Hey?” The man gave a reassuring smile as his son’s eyes lifted to him. “I’m alright.”

“Are you going back to work today?” The boy asked evenly, startling his father none the less.

“Ahh... Yeah, I am.” His confirmation was careful, as he watched his son nod with an expression too grim for a boy his age.

“Junior, I’m going to be okay. We’re going to be okay, promise.” Tucker nodded his assurance, as he held his hand out to his son.

Junior’s blue-green eyes rolled in a sarcastic manner, but he made no complaints about being too old this time. He simply reached forward and linked his pinky finger with his father's for half an instant before pulling his hand back again.

Tucker smiled at their small gesture, glad that something so simple could still reassure them both that much.

Tucker motioned for his son to wait as he moved to step out of the auto. “Kai will be picking you up after school, alright? Have her bring you down to the Precinct if she tries to go anywhere weird again.”

The boy smiled back at his father, likely more at the memory of the… eccentric woman then the prospect of coloring at his father’s desk after school. “Alright.” He nodded, before pausing as the autos door slid open “And, Dad?” The boy’s voice was a bit hesitant as he looked back into the eyes he’d inherited. “Be careful, alright.”

The stunned man could only manage a nod, but that seemed to be enough. Junior’s feet hit the concrete, and the door was falling shut behind him as the child hurried towards the school’s main doors, his backpack bouncing with his strides. It wouldn’t make much of a difference though, they were both already late.

A proud smile pulled at his lips as he instructed the auto to take him to Preset 3.

Tucker spared a half glance at the decal on the otherwise clear glass door as he moved to push it open. Bloodgulch Logistics Unit was printed above their acronymed emblem, though the man noted the color had been changed from a cobalt shade to a prime blue.

The Detective felt his smooth hair brush across his brow as his head shook at the ridiculously bright color. He was curious to some degree about what would have made Church change it, but as he stepped into the Precinct he knew he would be too lazy to ask.  

BLU was just one of the specialized law enforcement agencies in Chorus. Its headquarters weren’t anything spectacular, but their government backing was enough to get a decent building. Though personally he thought a police department should have something more fortifiable then windows for outer walls.

“Welcome back Detective Tucker.” A warm female voice greeted him from behind the report desk opposite the doors. The woman was wearing a standard issue kevlar suit, though the lack of armor over it meant she wasn’t expecting to be leaving the precinct. She was a bit too short for Tucker’s taste with almost elegant features and long, light brown hair pulled back into a neat high ponytail.

His lips automatically pulled into a flirtatious smile as he moved up to the desk, only to have it fall away as the bright ring around the woman’s pupil caught his attention. Her emerald irises were surrounded by a thick black circle, with a glowing green rim lining her pupil. It was a synthetic.

“BLU members have designated me Sheila. It is very nice to meet you Detective.”

“Yea, it’s nice to me you to... Sheila.”  

“Officers Caboose and Freckles left 17 minutes ago to ensure your arrival.” The Synth continued sounding just as cheerful, despite Tucker’s obvious negative reaction to its presence. The machine’s inorganic eyes focused on the screens in front of it for a moment before lifting back to Tucker. “I will need a DNA sample to reinstate you into the system”

With an uncomfortable nod the darker skinned man extended his hand to grasp the synths. The unnaturally smooth skin polymer left him oddly unsettled, even as the synthetic’s lips pulled into a smile.

The female synth’s hand released him as an almost inaudible tone sounded “Your reinstatement has been completed and Captain Church has requested your presence in his office. If you’ll excuse me I need to inform officer Freckles of your arrival.”

The synthetic turned its head away a fraction, no doubt sending a data communication to Caboose’s partner. Too bad, Tucker thought to himself as he moved into the elevator that would take him to the main floor, it really was pretty.

The precinct really hadn’t changed that much, given how long he’d been away. Andersmith was still buried in his work, though the files around him looked more official now that he was a Detective; Palomo was still interning as punishment for lying about his age to get into the academy; Kimball’s expression was still too critical as she stared at half a dozen holoscreens; and for a report who hated cops Kaikaina was still spending too much time arguing with his Captain.

“Shut up, Cop!” The woman’s rough voice rang through the offices, not even earning her a second glance from those around her as she stormed out of the large office.

“Hey Kai.” Tucker didn’t bother to fight the amused grin that stretched across his features at the sight of his very frustrated Captain through the glass walls of his office.

“Tucker you’re back!” The hawaiian cheered, her earlier argument probably completely forgotten with her new train of thought.

At the words he saw Kimball’s pale blue eyes lift to him from across the room. “Did your Doctor clear you to come back to work?” The dark skinned woman asked sternly.

“Oh, hey Tucker! I’m sure it’s fine Vanessa he _was_ sleeping for fourteen months after all.” A young voice chirped quickly.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Kimball?!” The woman snapped at the same time Andersmith added “I think that’s actually part of the problem Palomo.”

“Yea, Its good to see you all. Hey Kai, I need a favor.” Tucker inserted tactlessly, interrupting the arguing of his co-workers. “Church isn’t going to let me clock out early on my first day back, so I need you to pick up Junior from school”

“Oh sure, I can do that after I visit big brother.” The woman nodded, her wavy black hair falling to the side carelessly, but her expression was too glassy for him to be comfortable with.

“Are you sure, you can get Junior from his school, at 3 o’clock, and not take him anywhere strange?” He asked slowly, making sure the ditsy woman understood.

“Duh. I just said that.” Kai eloquently stated, placing her tanned hands on her hips. Her skin was only a few shades lighter than Tucker’s own, but with her outfit that day he wondered how the sun hadn’t darkened it, considering how little clothes she wore. Not that he would usually mind, but it was too complicated to keep sleeping with her after he became friends with her brother.

He nodded carefully, specifying again when and where she needed to pick up his son before dodging her swatting hand and ducking into his boss’s office.

“I’m not driving with one of those things.” Tucker’s chipped statement were the first words spoken after he entered his Captain's office.

“Nice to see you to Asshole.” Church replied without missing a beat. “You’ve been out for almost two years, Tucker. Synth partners have become mandatory.”

“I’ve been around, for the last few months, just not on active duty. The difference being, that I know for damn sure that Grif and Simmons are still partners. I’m not driving with a fucking machine, Church.”

“Yes, you are. I don’t give a shit how Sarge has gotten away with two of his human detectives being partnered, but I’m not fighting a bullshit regulation just because you have a grudge against synthetics. Besides, our synths are a bit ahh... unique.” Church suddenly sighed, tossing aside his datapad. “Look, Tucker I read your psych evaluation. PTSD, Survivor's guilt, Psychological rejection of your synthetic body part. You’re blaming the synthetic for that day, and you might not actually be wrong to, but you're still going to Grey’s and picking up your new partner. I know you’ve heard about all the fucking cops getting targeted in the city. The synth can be with you and Junior at home, it’ll keep you both safe.”

“That’s bullshit. I don’t-”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m done arguing this. You're getting a synthetic partner or I swear to God, Tucker, I will partner your ass with Caboose until you agree to it, or he gets you killed. You know, whichever comes first.”

“Fine, fuck.” Tucker conceded. At least a synth would be less likely than Caboose to shoot him in the leg with an unloaded pistol. Or make him want to shoot himself after one patrol.

The building the auto stopped in front of was large enough to be a small university, but looked more like a very, rich and extravagant home. Of course, the caramel skinned detective stepping out of the vehicle knew better.

Emily Grey was for most purposes the smartest person in the city, and this pinnacle of money and modern architecture was just her personal lab. He was pretty sure that she spent most of her nights here anyway, but that wasn’t because she couldn’t afford a just as extravagant home.

“Detective Tucker!” An overly cheerful voice called from the building's front door. The doctor’s dark hair looked as if it was meant to be tied back into a bun, but most of it seemed to have escaped and was now falling chaotically around her pale features. He didn’t question the woman’s presence, knowing her automated defense system didn’t take well to unsupervised visitors.

“It’s so good to see you again.” The woman grinned as the darker man followed her inside the building. “I visited you in the hospital, but that supposed Doctor had me banned after a small violation of your rights.”

Tucker’s head snapped in her direction instantly, his eyes narrowing at the mad scientist. “Oh it was just a few DNA samples. I don’t know what all the fuss was about.” Grey laughed chipperly, waving his concern off with a hand.

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about that…” Tucker stated as he walked behind the woman into one of the building’s larger rooms. “Ahh… I’m here for a synthetic. Apparently the governments made them mand-”

“I know.” The doctor interrupted with an almost squeal, leading Tucker through the various rows of equipment and experiments. “That’s why I pushed Church to bring you in! I got my hands on an amazing synth, but the stupid laws won’t let me activate anymore for personal use. It’s so frustrating! I know there is something different about his programing but I can’t study it fully until he’s awake.” The woman actually huffed, before her eager grin came back.

“Something different about its programing?” Tucker questioned warily. “Grey I just need a combat synth that fulfills the regulation.”

“Oh hush. Here he is!” The woman’s grey-purple eyes brightened as she stopped beside an advanced medical bed, gesturing excitedly to the deactivated synth laying on its surface.

Tucker’s first thought was that he looked like he was sleeping, and his second was that he wasn’t horrible to look at. He had the body of a combat synth, hard muscles visible under every portion of exposed skin, which was everything not covered by a green pair of medical pants. His skin was quite pale, an odd dusting of light freckles just across his nose. His features were masculine, but the mess of ash blonde hair, pair of full lips and feminine blonde eyelashes gave a softness to his appearance.

The Detective’s lips pinched down at the edges as he took in the thick white scars on the synth’s body. “This isn’t a new synth Emily”

“Of course not. Normal, factory regulated synthetics are so boring, I don’t even bother buying them anymore. Oh!” The woman’s squeal drew the darker man’s eyes from the still body, he had totally _not_ been staring at. “Feel his skin” She prompted with a grin.

Tucker looked at her skeptically, but it usually wasn’t a good idea to disobey the good doctor. He hesitantly lifted his hand to touch the synth’s exposed forearm. It felt just as Sheila's had earlier, almost human but too smooth to be real. Teal eyes lifted to the woman skeptically as she swiped a finger over some device, bringing up a magnified picture of what he assumed was the synth’s skin.

“Grey? Normal person here.” He reminded her as he quickly pulled his hand back to his side.

“Right” She said quickly. “This synth’s skin polymer is made of an extremely advanced and hyper-flexible material, the likes of which I’ve never encountered before. To simplify it for you, his skin is more likely to stop a bullet then your battle armor”

Tucker stared at her in silence for a moment. “Where exactly did you find this synthetic?”

“The black-market of course!” The woman chirped as if it was a normal statement. “You should have seen the condition he was in when I found him to. It was just horrible, I’ve been repairing him for months”

“Grey” Tucker started, choosing to tactfully ignore the black-market comment. “I can’t take a synth with unknown programing around my son”

“If I thought for a second that he would be a danger to Junior I never would have suggested you taking him. There is nothing wrong with his programing, in fact it’s more advanced and capable than I’ve ever seen.” The woman reasoned, a rare moment of serious covering her expression. “He’s not dangerous, Tucker. He’s just a bit different, and from what I read of your psych eval that might be a good thing.”

The man didn’t even react to the knowledge that the doctor had read his evaluation, hell she’d probably written one up of her own, but was too kind to say it. “Alright, turn it on. We’ll see how that goes, but I’m not promising to take the damn thing.”

Despite the harshness of his acceptance the woman beside him actually squealed in excitement, quickly turning to one of the high tech computers forming an almost room around the bed holding the synth.

“Alright, let’s wake him up.” Grey said quickly, moving over to the still, inorganic body.

The detective stayed back as the woman went about adjusting the chair to give her access to the back of the synth’s neck. An instant later she was pressing a device to a tattooed looking patch of skin.

The pale body jerked suddenly and almost violently. In a way, it reminded Tucker of how he felt when waking from his nightmares. The synthetic gasped quickly, its chest heaving with the effort as its eyelids suddenly flew open.

Tucker’s eye shifted to the female doctor. He was certain the machine didn’t need oxygen, but none the less the woman seemed content to wait until the synthetic’s breathing had evened before addressing it.

Grey’s eyes dropped to a holoscreen projected on her wrist before lifting her eyes back to the now activated synth. “You have been deactivated for a registered 1 year and 6 months. Can you confirm?” The woman’s voice had become the most neutral he had ever heard it, but Tucker hardly noticed. His eyes caught on the synth’s hand a moment after he swore it had been clenched.

“Deactivation record: 1 year, 6 months.” The synthetic responded. Its voice deep but smooth, an almost tremor going through the first syllable before its tone became neutral.

“Very good. I am Dr. Emily Grey. What is your designation?”

There was silence for a moment, and Tucker was almost tempted to venture close enough to gauge the synth’s reaction.

“Wash,” The synthetic finally stated, its body now completely still.

“It is wonderful to meet you Wash.” Grey’s excitement leaked back into her voice. “Can you identify your make and model for me?”

“Error. Data Corruption. Requested Information Unavailable. Running Recovery Scan”

Tucker scoffed from his position, drawing the doctor’s almost purple eyes to him. “Tucker, I appreciate that you are a Detective and well, naturally suspicious but synthetics do not lie. I already told you that he was in bad shape when I found him, that’s why I couldn’t find any of this information myself. Now please, just trust that I know what I’m doing.” Her voice was its normal high pitch again, but with a note of irritation that honestly scared the man under her gaze.

“Information Recovered.” Came the sudden voice of the synthetic. “Epsilon class Special Forces Synthetic”

“Special Forces?” Grey asked curiously, her gaze falling back on the synthetic. “Can you tell me who your manufacturer was?”

“Data Corruption. Information Unrecoverable.”

Grey was nodding her head, her eyes trained on the screen projected on her wrist. “I see. Well this clears things up.”

“Really?” Tucker asked his tone clearly skeptical.

“The Epsilon units were military designed. They were one of several models meant to be used against the Eastern Alliance before the Doctrine made it illegal to create synthetic armies. This one must be a surviving prototype.”

“A soldier synth?” He scoffed, eyes wide with the realization.

“Oh calm down, silly. His core functions are just the same as any other combat grade synthetic, he just cost a lot more to create” The doctor smiled chipperly, though Tucker suspected she might be disappointed at the discovery. “Wash, do you have a personality interface?” She asked, meeting the synthetic’s eyes.

“Affirmative. Personality Interface was deactivated to conserve energy”

Tucker’s eyes were back on the machine. Its body had remained unnaturally still throughout the conversation, but there were still small things that caught his attention, like it answering a question before the doctor could ask it.

“Wonderful!” Grey chirped, “Can you please reactivate all of your core functions?”

“Yes. This will take a moment” The synth stated, its eyelids falling closed.

Grey still seemed quite excited by the machine, almost bouncing as she moved back to one of the many screens connected to the medical bed. As the woman straightened she beckoned Tucker closer with an urgent hand.

The dark skinned man obeyed, reluctantly as the bed seemingly followed the doctor's command, shifting back to lie flat.

“I still don’t know about this.” The words barely left his mouth as the synthetic’s eyes opened again. The rest of his argument died on his lips as he looked down at those eyes for the first time.

Its irises, they were the exact same blue as the ceiling of his bedroom. The brighter, glowing circle around the synthetic pupil pulled Tucker back to reality. He shook his head quickly to himself, ignoring the sideways glance he was getting from the doctor, and the soft blue gaze of the synthetic looking up at him.

“You can sit up if you wish” Grey prompted, as if the Detective’s shock hadn’t been so blatantly apparent.

The synthetic did not answer, but its body was already moving. It shifted with an unnatural smoothness as its legs dropped off of the bed, looking back at the human’s with a calm expression.

“How are you feeling?” Grey asked, looking back at one of the computer displays.

“The new scarring on my lower back is causing some pain.” The synthetic’s statement was simple, but Tucker almost raised an eyebrow at its mention of pain. Of course he knew that synth’s had some touch receptors, but hearing one complain about back pain was definitely new.

“Wash’s nerve receptors are as advanced as the ones used in your synthetic limb. It’s one of the things that make him so fascinating!” Grey explained quickly. It seems his disbelief hadn’t been as subtle as he’d thought. “Can you stand and show me your back please, I should be able to disable the nerves causing your distress.” The doctor was polite as always, but it wasn’t much of a question.

“Will that be permanent?” The synthetic asked without moving.

“Of course not, I wouldn’t risk damaging you before I find out what makes you tick” Grey assured in her usual, still terrifying way. “They’ll reactivate slowly over the next few days”

For another moment the synthetic didn’t move, but its expression was still passable as neutral. “Alright” It confirmed finally, its feet shifting to the ground before standing up fully. It was taller than him, Tucker noted with a frown, the synth already turning its back to the pair of humans.

Tucker let out an audible gasp at the sight. He had seen the scars on the front of the synth’s body, it even had one cutting across its eyebrow and another slanting across its left cheek, but there hadn’t been anything like this.

A crescent shaped patch of white as big as his forearm surrounded one of its shoulder blades, and there were signs of more scarring at its side, but it was the thick, rigid marks covering nearly all of the synth’s lower back that held the Detective's eyes.

Grey pushed past him, a strange, curved device in her hands. She pressed it over the worst of the scarring, a green light flashing twice before turning blue.

The synthetic’s shoulders seemed to relax, and had the darker man not been trying to compose himself he would have heard a sigh of relief.

“How’s that?” Grey’s words cut through Tucker’s mental bracing, as the synth turned back to face them.

“Better. Thank you Doctor.” Its full lips pulled into a small smile, though it seemed oddly out of place on the synthetics otherwise blank face.

“My pleasure. Now, onto the important topics before Tucker gets impatient, and I have to forcefully prevent him from leaving!”

Tucker looked back at the women quickly, suddenly remembering why he vowed never to get on her bad side, or sleep with her. “Riiiight...” He took an awkward step away, receiving a quick eye roll from the doctor.

“Wash’s programing is too advanced from me to risk altering until I have a full understanding of it. That poses an interesting scenario since I can’t make serving as your partner and bodyguard his core motivation. But!” Her voice rose painful octaves as she stopped Tucker from interrupting “His core programing should take to the position on its own”

“Should? You want me to take this thing home, on a should?” Tucker as incredulously

“Of course not. We’re going to test it out now!” Grey’s eyes turned to the synthetic, her voice once again evening out to an unnatural degree, for her at least. “Wash. This is Lavernius Tucker. He is the lead Detective for a specialized police force in Chorus city, known as the Bloodgulch Logistics Unit. Current URA laws demand that he is accompanied by a synthetic who will act as his police partner, and a bodyguard for himself and his son, Lavernius Tucker Jr. Can you sync your motivation interface to these specifications?”

“Yes Doctor. However, I will need verbal confirmation from Detective Lavernius Tucker to avoid breaching his personal rights.” The synthetic answered smoothly, its eyes already shifting to Tucker as if waiting for his response.

The human sighed, looking critically at the machine in front of him before shifting his eyes to see the non-subtle prompting from the good doctor. “If this things threatens Junior in any way, I’ll take my energy sword to it.” He warned evenly, remembering her earlier mention of its possible bullet resistance.

“I mean your son no harm.” The synth inserted, despite the address not being directed at it.

“Alright,” Tucker shook his head slightly before lifting his eyes to meet the soft blue of the synthetic’s. “I, Lavernius Tucker give you permission to be… ahh motivated as my partner and bodyguard to me and my son.” He glanced at the woman beside him with both eyebrows raised. “Did I do it right?”

“A bit formal,” There was a small tremor in the synthetic’s voice that Tucker would have thought was restrained laughter had it been a human. “but acceptable. I will update my core motivation interface.” The synth’s eyes closed again, opening only a moment later as it nodded a confirmation at the update’s completion.

“So that’s it?” Tucker asked, looking between the blonde haired synth and the eager doctor.

“Well what were you expecting?” Grey asked, a slightly sharp note to her high pitched voice, clearly not happy that he hadn’t found this all riveting.

“Nothing.” He stated blankly. “Do you have anything for it to wear?”

Grey raised an eyebrow as if that actually hadn’t occurred to her before now. Her strange eyes shifted back to the synthetic for an instant before giving a wave of dismissal. “Not at all, but he is an excellent physical specimen!”

“That’s just fucking perfect, because Church doesn’t give me enough shit when I don’t bring a half-naked synthetic with me to work” Tucker said more to himself then those around him. “Let’s go.” His voice flattened as he addressed the machine, turning away before it could respond.


	2. Bedtime Stories

“Why are we here Detective?” The synthetic’s blue eyes turned to the human beside it as the auto pulled itself into a small parking lot.

Tucker gave no indication that he had heard the even voiced comment as he stepped out of the vehicle.

The area around him was a small market district. It wasn’t the kind of place one went to find anything high-end, but the well-priced markets and quaint boutiques made it far more tolerable to the Detective then one of the multi-level shopping centers.

Tucker only glanced behind him long enough to ensure that the synthetic was following him before continuing toward an insignificant looking building.

“Detective?” Came the voice of the synthetic as the door of the clothing store swung closed behind them, sounding a bit more forced than it had earlier

“Go find yourself some fucking clothes already. I’m not taking you to my Precinct like that.” He finally addressed the synth, ignoring the blatant bareness of its chest as best he could. Though the few other customers in the small building didn’t seem to be showing the same restraint.

“I see.” The smooth voice commented from just behind the Detective, but he didn’t feel the machine move away.

Tucker heaved a sigh, abandoning his plan of pretending to look at the postcard rack for the duration of the visit. He turned back a degree, teal eyes lifting to the pale face of the synth. Its eyes were sweeping the store with a subtle confused expression, nothing about its posture indicating that it intended to move anytime soon.

“Shopping doesn’t work from a distance.” The Detective commented, earning himself the synths attention, only to turn his back on it and start farther into the store “Let’s just get this over with. I have more important things I could be doing… bow chika bow wow”

“What, was that?” The synthetic’s voice had a strange note to it that instantly made Tucker snap back a defensive. “Nothing!”

“Here.” Tucker grabbed a random shirt from a display, throwing it towards the synth. He wasn’t patient enough to do his own shopping, he shouldn’t have to suffer through doing it for a machine.

“Detective?” The synth questioned, holding the clearly too small tan shirt up to its chest.

Tucker frowned, glancing more closely at the pants he’d been about the pick up, quickly pulling his hand back.

Neither synthetic, nor human uttered a word as the two walked into the adults section of the store.

“That was your fault.” The man eventually muttered, hands shoved deep in his pocket as he looked blankly at a rack of men’s clothing.

“I’m curious Detective. How did you come to that conclusion?”

Great now it was sounding like a smarter version of Church.

“If you had just gone and picked out a pair of clothes when I told you to, we could have avoided the whole fucked up situation.” He argued his point, not looking towards the synthetic who was clearly staring at him over the rack.

“That reasoning is… interesting.” It said, turning its unsettling pale blue gaze to a pair of deep red chinos.

Tucker thought offhand that something grey would suit the synth better, but those were one of the only pairs of pants that looked to be around the correct size.

“Here.” The detective held out a shirt, earning an almost skeptical look from the synthetic. Tucker rolled his eyes in response, shaking the shirt threateningly in his hand, prompting the synth to take it or risk having the fabric thrown at it again.

The machine got the hint. It reached for the folded cloth almost immediately. The action causing its smooth fingers to brush against the human’s darker hand. Tucker pulled back instantly, almost causing the shirt to fall to the ground, had the synthetic not caught the material.

“They have a backroom for customer’s to try on clothing. Go change, the cashier will understand” Tucker instructed, turning away immediately as if the encounter hadn’t even taken place.

“Detective?”

Tucker turned at the sound of the synth’s voice. It was standing in a pair of dark grey faded jeans, with the grey and yellow baseball shirt Tucker had found. Its soft yellow sleeves pushed midway up the synth’s forearm, exposing the light colored skin as it held out three handwritten tags. The light green medical pants now folded carefully and held in his other hand.

The Detective took the white cards carefully by the edges, raising an eyebrow at the synth who merely looked down at the black shoes now covering its feet.

“Right. Shoes, that would make sense.”

This is why Tucker didn’t do shopping, he always forgot something.

As he thought, the woman behind the register didn’t question the synth already wearing the three items the Detective was purchasing. She was older than Tucker, but still pretty with blonde hair falling in perfect spirals.

The darker skinned man considered flirting throughout their exchange, it really had been too long since he’d been able to use one of his lines, but the woman’s lingering eyes hardly left the blonde synth behind him.

“Come back soon” She smiled suggestively as she spoke, her gaze sweeping once more down the synthetic’s body.

Tucker had to fight back and indignant retort, feeling more than a bit annoyed at being overlooked for a machine.

He sent a chipped glance back at the synth, only to find its eyes pointedly staring outside of the shop’s door, a tinge of pink to its cheeks. Odd, Tucker thought off hand as he turned to leave the shop, why would a military synth need blush response software?

A subtle beep sounded in his right ear, immediately drawing his full attention. Tucker paused in place, lifting a finger to tap his tragus twice, allowing the communication.

_ “Is it working?” _

_ “Ow Ow Ouch. Stop it!” _

_ “It wouldn’t hurt if you would stop moving!” _

“Kai? Simmons? What the fuck is going on?” Tucker demanded harshly as he strained to make sense of the noise and cursing coming through the emergency channel.

A smooth hand gripped his forearm gently, making the Detective jump in surprise. He glanced back at a pair of inorganic blue eyes, hurriedly pulling away from the synthetic’s grip.

“Detective, perhaps you want to continue your… conversation somewhere that is not in the middle of a street.” The synth’s expression was tense, its pale eyes shifting to the auto stopped no more than a foot from where they were standing, and more importantly the very large and very angry man inside it.

“I see your point.” Tucker stated without argument, quickly continuing to the sidewalk.

The civilian graciously showed the pair his middle finger as his auto started forward again, earning himself a yelled challenge from the Detective before the darker man turned his attention back to his communicator.

“HEY!” Tucker yelled, not caring that a couple crossed quickly to the other side of the street to avoid him. “What the hell is going on? This is a ‘BLU’ emergency channel assholes, and you to almost got my ass kicked by gorilla in an auto, so you two better have a fucking good reason for hacking it.”

Silence greeted him for almost a full minute.

“W-well… You see… It’s Kai’s fault! She made me do it.” Simmons stuttered and he could imagine the pale man flushing nervously.

“Narc!” The reporter’s voice suddenly cut across the channel.

“Seriously Simmons, learn how to talk to fucking girl, and then learn how to tell her no, when that girl happens to be Kai, who's asking you to do something stupid!”

The com channel dissolved into another bout of shouting, which Tucker assumed was due to the RID Captain’s appearance, namely because Simmons eventual response was a shouted “Suck it BLU”

“The Roosterteeth Investigator’s Department. There another police force in the city, there Captain’s a lot of insane and obsessed with colors.” Tucker explained to the synth, if only to give the group enough time to figure out why they had called him in the first place. “They call themselves (red)RID, and apparently that makes us BLU’s their sworn enemies or some shit. I’m not really clear on how all of that works most of the time.”

The synthetic frowned slightly, looking back at the detective with an expression of slight confusion. “Wouldn’t their acronym be R-I-D?”

“Did you miss the bit about their Captain being crazy? Technically, it is RID, but if someone pronounce it like that to his face he shoots them with his fucking shotgun. So it’s easier to just go along with it.” Tucker sighed, tapping his tragus to end the communication. “Let’s go, I’ll call Kai back from the car.”

“What do you mean you can’t pick him up?! Damn it Kai I’m on the other side of town, I’ll never make it there in time!” Tucker was shouting into the thin mobile phone pressed to his ear, his auto already making its way towards his son’s school.

“I told you I have a date-”

“With a really hot guy I know, I heard you the first fucking time, but you can’t just bail on me last minute. You know what, fine. I don’t even fucking care right now, just don’t _ever_ use the emergency channel for this shit again.”

“You weren’t answering, and I know you always leave your phone in your auto so I thought, Hey Simm-”

“No Kai. Not ever again”

“Fine, Co-”

The Detective ended the call without waiting for her shouted ‘insult’, dropping the phone aside in favor of pinching the bridge of his nose against the oncoming headache.

The synthetic had been quiet throughout the exchange, and didn’t actually seem to be paying any attention to the human. Its head was tilted toward the window at its side, pale blue eyes staring at the expense of sky seen above the city.

From Tucker’s position on the other side of the auto he couldn’t see much of the synth’s face, but something about it made him bite back his rant about Kai. Instead the man turned his eyes forward, the car falling into an oddly comfortable silence.

The autonomous car parked itself along the road in its usual spot. Tucker glance at the time display, about to quickly instruct the synth to wait here when he realized the blonde was already out of the car.

“Fuck!” Tucker swore, too loudly given his proximity to the elementary school, but he was more concerned about getting to the synth.

A car zipped by, almost taking his door and leg off in the process. The Detective made note of what he he could tell of the vehicle at its speed, deciding to later track down the owner who had clearly hack the auto’s speed regulator.

By the time the dark skinned man made it safely to the sidewalk the synthetic had almost disappeared from sight.

Tucker paused beside his auto, his eyes catching a patch of ash blonde hair in the distance. He had to force himself not to sprint after the sight, but he kept his pace quick as he slid through the thinning crowd of parents and children.

“Synth!” The Detective called as he neared the machine, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as a familiar pair of teal eyes lifted to meet his own.

“You know Wash, Dad?” Junior questioned curiously, his eyes darting between his father and the synthetic at his side.

“He’s meant to be my partner” The man started to explain, glancing towards the synth wryly.

It hardly seemed aware of his presence, blue eyes focused on something near the school's metal fence.

“Does that mean we can keep him?” The child asked, tugging on his father’s hand to demand his attention.

“Junior, I think he’s malfunctioning. I’m going to have to take him back to Dr. Grey...” Tucker trailed off as his son’s face fell, not having the time to mentally brace before those blue-green eyes blinked back up at him in a look of pleading.

“But he helped Kid.”

“Kid? What kid?” The man looked down at his son in confusion before sending the synth a suspicious glance.

“No, his name is Kid, I think. But he’s my best friend here, and the other kids all pick on him. The big kids stole his skateboard, and kept pushing him around. Wash made them go away, and he even got Kid’s board back!” Junior explained, raising a hand to point in the direction the synth was still looking.

Tucker’s teal eyes searched the fence for a moment, before picking out a small boy on the other side. He looked younger than Junior, in baggy purple and pink clothing. His hair was black and sloppy, almost covering a pair of wide, pale green eyes. He stood mostly hidden behind one of the metal posts, barely peeking out at the trio.

Tucker frowned, glancing back at the blonde synthetic. Its lips pulled into a gentle smile, one of its hands raising to wave slightly at the ragged boy.

The child seemed to consider ducking away for a moment before stepping out enough to wave back at the synth, a grin brightening his features for an instant before his eyes fell back on Tucker. Kid’s lips twitched back into the worried frown, nodding once to the dark skinned child at the man’s side before dropping an actual skateboard to the ground.

Not a hoverboard, a real, wheels and all, skateboard.

Tucker could understand why the boy would be a target, his clothes were too girly and too big, not to mention he rode a normal skateboard of all things, but he still felt the familiar stir of anger in his gut.

“What protocol made you leave the vehicle?” The man asked the synthetic, though the question had less heat in it than he had meant.

The synths pale gaze shifted back to the Detective once the child was out of sight. “The child was in distress. I resolved the situation without bringing harm to any of the minors involved. Was this the wrong reaction, Detective?” Its voice was calm but there was an almost challenge hidden there that made Tucker want to rise to meet it, but not having the argument to do so.

“No… ” The man conceded, with a final glance at the machine. “Let’s go kid, you get to hang out with your old man at the Precinct today.” He smiled at his son’s mock groan, ruffling the smooth dark hair they shared before walking towards his auto, leaving his son and his partner to follow.

Tucker knew something was off as soon as his auto pulled into place behind the glass building. Nothing was blatantly out of place, but he had the urge to peer over his shoulder every few moments. He wasn’t paranoid, but in his line of work, he’d learned to trust his instincts.

“Is something wrong Detective?” The blonde synthetic asked as the trio stepped into the elevator.

The man glanced down at his son, now looking up curiously at the two. “Not at all, just my first day back in the office.” Tucker gave an easy smile, watching his son mirror it in the glass reflection. The synthetic, however, was clearly unconvinced but it did not voice its concerns again.

Stepping onto the main floor the group was immediately greeted by the stern face of Vanessa Kimball. The dark skinned woman blinked at them in surprise for only an instant before placing a hand on her hip, the other holding a datapad to her chest.

“Ah.. Hello Junior. It’s been quite some time” She smiled uncomfortably at the child, who seemed less than impressed but unsurprised at the greeting. With a clearing of her throat, Kimball turned her blue eyes on her co-worker. “You’re late Tucker, how many personal stops did you make after seeing Dr.Grey.”

Tucker rolled his eyes openly at the woman’s reprimand. “Things might have gone faster if Church hadn’t set me up with a crazy synthetic, or if Grey had thought of having clothes for the thing, or maybe if Kai hadn’t bailed on picking up Junior because she wanted to go have s-” He carried out the sound as he quickly turned it into another word “-ushi”

That was a decent save, and Tucker didn’t care how exasperated the woman looked but she simply turned her gaze to the blonde haired synthetic. Its posture suddenly seemed too tense, its features carefully blank.

“You must be our new addition. I’m Kimball, the intelligence analyst for BLU.” She held out a hand in greeting.

“Wash.” It replied simply, taking her hand in its own.

“Well, Wash, I look forward to working with you, but for now I have things I need to get back to.” Her gaze shifted to the similar looking father and son. “It was nice seeing you again, and Tucker the Captain has company” With that, she was walking away, her eyes already fixated on the screen in her hand.

Tucker frowned, his eyes falling on his Captain’s office, and it’s now opaque walls. “Let’s find you something to do, alright? I promise we won’t stay late today” He sent his son a smile, not sure how much of his father’s unease the child had picked up on.

Tucker tugged open the last drawer to Caboose’s desk, but somehow even the odd officer had very little that would prove useful for entertaining his kid. Which was odd in and of itself. He figured the childish man would have had his area filled with any number of toys or random object with no relation to police work what-so-ever. Yet, it seemed that his synthetic partner kept him away from the Precinct for most of the day, likely to lessen the dangers of having the man armed and in an enclosed space.

The detective groaned, returning to his desk and the waiting pair of teal eyes with his meager hall. He placed the stack of printer paper and the half box of crayons in front of the unimpressed seven year old.

“We won’t be that late, I promise… ” He offered, ruffling the child’s black hair.

The blonde synthetic had stayed beside Junior for the duration of Tucker’s search. The tension in its posture seemed to lessen while in the child’s presence, but its blue eyes had not lifted to the Detective since the encounter with Kimball.

“I’m going to go speak with the Captain, find out what’s going on. You can do whatever, I guess.” He shrugged, not really certain how to work with the machine, but not caring enough right now to figure it out.

The dark skinned man hesitated a moment, before making his way to the Precincts breakroom. Andersmith still had a file laid out in front of him, but he paid it little attention, his eyes focused on his synthetic partner.

The Detective didn’t understand why a synthetic would have use of the break room, or breaks for that matter, but he didn’t question it.

“Hey, Smith.” He announced his presence, having learned the hard way not to sneak up on a cop. “Look, I’m going to see if I can find out what the hell is going on with Church, would you mind keeping an eye on Junior?”

“Aren’t you leaving Wash with him?” The older man questioned, sounding a bit confused by the request.

“Yea, that's the other part. Can you keep an eye on the synth to?”

“Are you concerned that Wash may be a threat to your son?” Sheila spoke for the first time, her voice still high but not as cheerful as when they had met. “John and I already met him. He did not seem to have any core malfunctions.”

“Well, not exactly. It’s not a normal synth. Grey said its military, and she couldn’t understand all of its programming. Plus it’s a bit… weird. I’d just feel better if I had Andersmith looking out for Junior.” Tucker explained a bit awkwardly, his eyes straying between the two.

“Of course.” The other man assured, though his brown eyes seemed more resigned than understanding.

Still, Tucker knew he would hold to his word and that was enough for him to focus on whatever bullshit Church had gotten himself into, without constantly worrying about his son.

Felix was still smiling from his place across the office, his head tilted slightly as if he enjoyed showing off the pattern buzzed into his black hair. “You don’t really think that you idiots can keep my backers from obtaining the information they want, do you...? Well, good luck with that.”

The amber eyed man pushed away from the glass wall, his cocky grin not faltering once throughout the exchange, though the Blu Captain looked ready to gun him down.

Actually, Tucker was considering doing that himself, but as tempted as he was, he couldn’t fire on a military contractor. Not to mention Felix had brought his built-as-fuck synthetic with him.

“Detective, please see our piece of shit guest to the door.” Church instructed, sounding almost livid after the argument.

With only a jerky nod the dark skinned man followed the contractors out of his Captain’s office. His eyes scanned the room immediately, searching for signs of his son.

The caramel skinned child seemed to be looking at something intently from the floor beside his father’s desk. The blonde synthetic was standing directly between him and the group moving to the elevators. Tucker might have thought it was coincidence, but its pale eyes were intently focused on the visitors with a far from friendly expression.

The human contractor paused casually, his bright gaze flicking in the one direction the Detective hoped wouldn’t draw his attention. “What do we have here? Looks like you assholes finally got a new model.”

Tucker didn’t reply as the man’s amber eyes swept appraisingly over the ash blonde synthetic.

He knew Felix loved to hear himself talk, and right now he just wanted him gone, not walking towards his son.

To the darker man’s surprise, his partner synth walked out to meet the contractor. Its posture was tense, but its eyes were outright cold.

“Hmmm...” Felix grinned, not noticing as his own dark skinned companion regarded the other synthetic with caution. “Does he take orders well, Tucker? I think I would like to try out a version of him at home. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share. Pity to, his scars really are something.”

The hand the contractor had reached out to touch the synth’s face was suddenly stopped in place, a strong pale hand wrapped around the wrist in a way that looked almost painful.

“Felix.” The tall synthetic spoke up, its voice deep and gravelly.

“In a minute Locus, things are just starting to get interesting.” The contractor grinned up at the blonde, his features pulling into a slight grimace as the synth increased the pressure on his wrist.

“You should listen to your partner.” The pale synth stated, dropping the man’s hand as if it held no interest to him.

“Yea, get the fuck out.” Tucker interjected harshly, feeling oddly grateful towards his machine partner.

“We have orders to report back.” The synthetic’s emerald eyes lifted to meet the pale blue pair facing it for only an instant before turning away and moving towards the elevator without its human partner.

Felix almost growled in response to his synth’s words, but an instant later his cocky smirk was back, if a bit darker this time. “This is not over.” He promised, staring down the two opposing him before following after his dark skinned partner.

“That guy's a fucking dick.” Tucker stated from beside the synth, his gaze trained on the pair until the elevator blocked them from view.

“Yes.” Came the synthetic’s agreement, drawing curious teal eyes to the slowly relaxing, pale face. Its blue eyes still staring after the contractors.

The Detective hesitated, feeling as if he should say something else but deciding against it. He turned towards his son, whose eyes were still lifted after clearly watching the exchange. Tucker hoped that he didn’t understand all of what Felix had been referencing, though with his genetics… It was a vague hope.

“Hey, kid. Sorry that took so long, Church needed help dealing with some things. You didn’t get too bored, right?” The man took a seat on the floor, smiling at the child beside him.

“It’s okay, me and Wash wrote a book.” Junior looked down at the papers clutched in his hands, seeming a bit embarrassed, like he always did after enjoying something he thought he should have outgrown.

“You did? Can I see it?”

“It’s kind of childish… but it was fun anyway... It’s about you.” The child smiled up at his father, shyly handing him the stack of papers.

Dozens of staples held the papers together on one side, though it looked like most of them only went about halfway through. The cover held an impressive drawing of himself and Junior. The synth had likely sketched the portraits, while it was obvious that Junior had colored them both. BEDTIME STORIES was written in a child’s handwriting along the top, two signatures marking the bottom. Junior was written large and sloppy in a bright green, with Wash written in much smaller, neat, grey letters underneath it.

Tucker found himself smiling at the cover, pulling the first paper aside carefully so he could read the next.

The book was both incredibly childish and very mature. Most of the pages had neat, almost perfect drawings, later colored by its younger author, accompanied by either a few sloppy sentences or longer neat written passages.

It wasn’t a very long book, but it was the story itself that had the man reading each page quietly, that and the child watching him expectantly.

Junior must have told the synth about the coma, some of it at least, the Detective realized.

The bedtime story was mostly about Tucker and Junior. They go on an adventure together, and get separated for a little while but Tucker always finds his way back to his son. The last few pages included Wash to, though his only mention was in Junior’s scrawl and a messy drawing of him added beside the father and son on the last page.

“Wow Junior...”

“You don’t have to pretend to like it because you're my Dad.” The boy crossed his arms stubbornly, making his father just smile down at him.

Tucker set the book carefully aside before taking his son in a huge bear hug, ending of course in him tickling the child until both of their eyes were watering from laughter.

The Detective lifted his eyes as Junior caught his breath beside him, looking to see if they’d drawn the attention of his colleagues, but the only one around was the blonde synthetic, turning its head away from the pair to hide the obvious grin gracing its features.

The teal eyed man didn’t know what to think of the synth’s expression, even if he had only gotten a glimpse. It had seemed too genuine for any engineered to have manufactured.

“Alright, kid.” The darker man, turned his attention back to his son, offering him the home-made book carefully. “Get your stuff together and we can get out of here.”

Junior nodded, taking the book and clambering to his feet, but he hesitated instead of leaving his father's side. “Is Wash coming home with us?” His question held a note of worry to it at the possibility of his father’s refusal.

“Yea, for tonight at least.” The Detective confirmed cautiously, his eyes flicking towards the blue eyed synthetic.

Its expression once again neutral. The detective would even have called it blank, had the synth’s eye not seemed so alert.

“Detective Tucker?” Andersmith’s voice called from the door marked ‘Intelligence’, Kimball barely visible sitting at her desk within the room. “Have the contractors finally left? Not speak ill of them, but the shouting coming from the Captain’s office was... unsettling.”

“Yea, they're gone. Knowing Felix though, they’ll be back.” Tucker sighed, rolling his stiff inorganic limb, his right palm pressing against his false shoulder.

“Your arms still bothering you. It’s been seven months since the procedure hasn’t it? Isn’t there anything your doctor can do to ease it?” The lighter skinned detective questioned, his usual concerned frown pulling at his lips.

“No need. It's fine, really. I’ve just had a long day.” The younger man lied easily, his eyes warning the other detective away from the topic.

“I see.” Smith nodded his understanding, before letting the subject drop entirely and turning his attention to the synthetic still at Tucker’s side. “It has been good working with you Wash, even if for today it was only to track down my stapler. I still can’t figure how I managed to lose it.”

“My records indicated that Officer Freckles was forced to hide the object from Officer Caboose 6 days ago.” Sheila inserted as she emerged from Kimball’s office. “You had no need of it in that time, and I thought it best to leave the object stashed away to avoid another incident.”

“Yes...” Andersmith agreed, his eyes distant as he seemed to be remembering something. “Officer Caboose’s words that day were truly inspiring, even given his injury.”

A throat cleared quietly from beside the darker man, drawing the pair from their conversation. “I am sorry, but I believe that the Detective wishes to take Junior home soon.” The synthetic apologized, its pink lips pulling into a courteous smile. “Thank you both for your kindness today. I look forward to working with everyone here, for as long as I am permitted.”

Andersmith looked over the synth carefully at his added uncertainty, but it was Junior who spoke next, startling all four adults with his sudden presence.

“I like your other smile better.” The child stated, his teal eyes looking critically at the blonde synthetic.

“Junior, mind your manners.” Andersmith scolded oddly, despite his words being directed at the machine. 

Tucker’s eyes shifted to the synth at his side. He couldn’t help thinking back to the flash of a grin he had seen earlier, and found himself tempted to agree with his son. The bright flash of amusement had been much more calming than a smile plastered over a blank face. 

The darker Detective wasn’t sure what his expression had shown in that moment, but it was enough for the other man to speak up.

“Whether Wash is a synth or not it is always prudent to practice good manners.” He explained, his eyes focused more on Tucker then the child beside him.

“But I wasn’t trying to be rude.” The boy protested. “I was just saying that I like his other smile better, when his eyes wrinkle like Dad’s, and he gets those little dents in his cheeks.”

Again Tucker found his gaze shifting to the pale synth, its soft eyes staring back at the child, no trace of the smile left on its features

“Wash’s programing could allow for alterations to his preset expressions if he deems it necessary. While implanted in my tank-body, I changed my voice algorithm 11 times before finding one that put the soldiers at ease.”  The green-eyed synth informed, her tone almost defensive of the other synthetic as she addressed the darker Detective directly.

 

The drive from the Precinct was silent. 

The synthetic did not utter a word, its soft gaze trained at the brightly lit clouds of the evening's sunset.

Tucker was lost in his own thoughts, mostly those about the synth sitting quietly beside him. He couldn’t deny that there was something different about this synthetic than the ones he had met before his coma, but he was having trouble convincing himself that there was something dangerous about it. The machine had been blatantly protective, if not over protective when it came to children, especially Junior, and it had made no attempt to harm Tucker or anyone else it had come into contact with.

The man spared a glance back at his son, curled half asleep in the auto’s backseat. Well, that certainly explained the quietness of the drive.

The auto pulled soundlessly into the drive, the dark skinned man reaching towards the synth, but stopping short of touching in and instead waving to catch its attention. He motion for the machine to be silent with a finger to his lips and a gesture to the sleeping boy.

It nodded in understanding, wordlessly sliding out of the autonomous car.

Tucker slipped out a moment later, making his way to the secondary side of the car, but pausing there. The synth was already ducked into the back seat, straightening slowly as to not wake the child now grasped carefully in its arms.

Soft blue eyes met Tucker’s gaze evenly for a silent moment before tilting questioningly to one side.

The man shook his head quickly as his only response, turning to lead the synth towards the front door to his home. 

Theoretically, he could have whispered directions to Juniors room once he signaled the house to unlock itself, but instead he led the synthetic up the wooden stairs. 

There was a small grunt from behind him, instantly drawing his eyes to the blonde synth, which seemed to actually have stumbled over one of the steps. The Detective hadn’t even known synthetics could be clumsy, but that would be just his luck, wouldn’t it?

He shot the synth a sharp glare, biting his lip nervously all the same. It responded with an apologetic smile as it continued moving up the stairs behind the man. 

Tucker huffed quietly, but could do no more then continue to the seven year old's room, opening the door quickly to allow the blonde haired machine easier access, and considering its earlier misstep he was going to make this trip as easy as possible while it was holding his son.

Amazingly, the synth managed to lay Junior in his, still unmade, bed without even causing the boy to stir. It reached out to pull the spaceship comforter up to the child’s shoulder, before placing a familiar homemade book on the end table beside him.

The darker man traded places with the synth as it stepped towards the open door. He kneeled down beside his son, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Sleep tight, kiddo.”

“Don’t let… mnmh… bedbugs... bite” The boy muttered back the familiar phrase, clearly still mostly asleep, but his father grinned just the same.

He stood to see the synthetic’s eyes focused on him from just outside the door, the bright blue ring around its pupil glowing unsettlingly through the dim lighting. The man’s first instinct was to call it out on the intrusion, before he remember that he hadn’t told it where it was meant to go.

Tucker motioned for the synth to follow as he carefully stepped around it, leaving his son’s door cracked open behind him.

The man paused at the base of the stairs, his eyes sweeping over the living area before lifting the synthetic a step behind him. “You need to recharge overnight, right? Hibernate or something?” He asked, his voice slightly hushed.

The blonde nodded once in response.

“Well, I’m not sure how that all works, but you're free to take the couch.” He rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly, averting his eyes to the black piece of furniture.

“That is acceptable… Thank you Detective.” Its voice took on the same hushed tone as the humans.

This time it was Tucker’s turn to nod silently. He hit the lightswitch in the entryway, plunging the house into darkness, aside from the dim halo shining from the automatic fireplace. The man didn’t wait for his eyes to adjust to the low light of the false embers, he knew the house well enough to find the door to his room without his sight.

He paused considering the synthetic he left at the stairs, but he guessed that it could make its way to the couch with little light. Hell, it might have night vision for all he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize for all of the errors in the first chapter, I will be updating it. It's worth mentioning that I do not have beta or proofreaders, and I do all of the editing on my own. I will try to have my work more refined before posting it, but if you notice grammar errors or plot inconsistencies I am always glad to have them pointed out to me.


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